


I Hate That I Still Like You

by Highlightlover4693



Series: Stolen Moments (Shots) [3]
Category: Motorcycling RPF
Genre: M/M, Mixed feelings, Talking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-25
Updated: 2017-09-25
Packaged: 2019-01-05 01:57:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,308
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12180651
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Highlightlover4693/pseuds/Highlightlover4693
Summary: It's a peaceful night at Aragon, at least until HE shows up, as usual, to mess everything up.





	I Hate That I Still Like You

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry for writing AGAIN about this two, but I just couldn't help myself. Needed to explore the pairing through this weekend.
> 
> This was supposed to be posted on Saturday, but I've been horribly busy and I'm so, so sorry. I promise I'll try my best to keep up!

~I Hate That I Still Like You~

 

**_Aragon, 23th September._ **

**_Saturday Evening_ **

 

"You are insane, you know that?"

Vale jerks his head up at the familiar voice resonating all over the improvised corridor the parked motorhomes' walls form. A well-known cheerful voice that still manages to make his traitorous heart flutter.

He didn't expected anyone taking this path tonight, that was the reason why he had taken that spot on the metallic stairs of his motorhome in the first place, hoping that it could give him a little bit of privacy, some time alone to rest, both physically and mentally. Nevertheless, here _he_ is, always seeming to find him wherever he hides.

A rebellious smile makes its way to his lips at the sight of Marc casually walking walking towards him, clad in a dark blue Repsol sweater that apparently isn't enough, as he buries his hands determinedly into the pockets of those flattering faded jeans that Vale obliges himself to take his eyes away from.

Whipping that grin away from his face as fast as he can, he fidgets with his still convalescent leg, trailing his fingertips up and down the elastic white fabric that covers it as he analyzes the young Spaniard's words.

"I don't think you are the best example for safety advices" he retorts, finding the situation almost funny, and definitely ironic. _As if it was something you wouldn't do._

As if it was something that ridiculously brave kid he has in front of him wouldn't try.

"True" finally Marc reaches his position, standing in front of him and flashing that damned flawless smile that would melt anyone's insides into mush.

Vale forces his eyes to focus on something else once again, cursing himself internally for still noticing those little details about Marc that have always captivated him.

A heavy silence falls between them, brief, but definitely thick, that contrasts outstandingly with the loud chaos that his currently reigning over his thoughts. His mind desperately trying to find an answer of why the Repsol rider is here, looking at him that intensely.

"It's getting cold" The Spaniard finally adds lowly, after a short period of time that seemed way longer, where only the sound of crickets could be heard. The casual words prompt the italian to raise his eyebrows, looking straight at the Honda rider once again and discern why the heck is he trying to strike up a conversation with him.

Not that he doesn't want to.

Of course he wants to. That's indeed the biggest problem. Sometimes he finds himself surprisingly desperate to set up some kind of contact between them, some kind of that long-forgotten connection they used to share.

And it infuriates him beyond measure...how fucking much he misses Marc. How he misses their talks, their jokes, their shared laughs. Yeah, bittersweet memories.

His thoughts might have reflected on his features, because the next second, the kid is slowly walking backwards, ready to leave, scrapping the back of his neck and looking strangely, nearly painfully embarrassed, as if he regretted his approach.

"Sorry. You wanted to be alone" The apology, accompanied by that disappointed glint shimmering in those dark eyes, seems to ignites Vale's muscles and brain into movement, into action.

Because he would like to say he wants him to go, he would love to think he isn't happy the Spaniard came across him. But he just knows that would never be true. That is the constant conflict he had to deal with every time. Vale hated that he still craved the younger's company that much.

"Wait" the sound is out of his mouth because he can hold it back or do anything to stop it. If he had thought rationally, he would have taken the message back, let the other leave. But apparently his heart had dangerously taken charge of his actions. And yeah, Valentino didn't like that either.

But now that he has said it he can't take it back, and really, the way Marc's fervent dark eyes are shinning right now unable his brain to react once again. Against his will, the italian watches with fascination how those damned perfect lips form again that grin that makes his stomach jump violently without any kind of warning.

Traitor.

The Spaniard eyes him expectantly, obviously waiting for something more than one word, and Vale rummages inside his head for something else to say that won't make him look as stupid and needy as he positively feels.

"You know" he clears his throat, not quite understanding why his breathing channel feels so narrow all of a sudden "I've spent enough time alone this past weeks. Wouldn't mind a bit of company"

This time, he tries to make his voice sound lighter, as if his confession lacked relevance. And fortunately, Marc didn't seem to need anything more, smiling even wider and hesitantly sitting down on one of the lowest steps of the cold staircase, just by Vale's extended leg.

"It looks good" the young rider mutters, gesturing at the injured limb with his chin, his face breaking for the millionth time into that fucking gorgeous smile that is seriously going to drive Vale into a loop of desperation and indignation.

In an attempt of busying himself, the italian draws his palm up and down the wrapped knee, absently feeling the hard surface of the nail that is holding his leg together under his fingertips.

"Yeah, as good as a broken leg can look" Valentino snarls, eventually allowing himself to smirk a little bit at the mischievous gleam that comes across Marc's gaze.

"You know what I meant" the Spaniard chuckles lightly, and really? Since when the hell had that sounded so heavenly? Before he has time to condemn himself once again, Marc whispers quietly " _You_ look good"

Ok, this time he's pretty sure his heart had skipped a few beats, because the Honda rider is looking at him directly, with an intensity and that admiration he hadn't seen in such a long time.

_Like he used to._

And Vale hadn't realized until now how much he had missed that glance.

"Thank you" he mumbles the words, trying to focus all his attention in that spot of his knee. But there is no use, not when Marc is looking at him like that. In the end, he can't help but drown into those deep dark pools that seem to helplessly lure him in.

"You might not believe it but I really missed you at Misano, it just wasn't the same without you" the younger adds, reaching with tentative fingers to graze softly Vale's knee, as well. And at that point the italian is already in sheer despair, because those fingers are coming closer to his and for an unknown reason it seems impossible for him to pull them back, to keep them far from that dangerous but at the same time irresistible attraction Marc has always embodied.

"Well, still it didn't stop you from winning" he's actually surprised at the lack of shivers and trembles in his voice. A brief, futile glimpse of resistance that evaporates in a heartbeat when Marc's fingers finally lace with his, his thumb rubbing little, delicate, torturing circles over his tigh. And his breathing definitely and irremediably falters.

"No, but it just didn't feel right" Marc shrugs, blinking slowly before focusing all his attention back on Valentino "You are really brave, you know, for coming back to try"

The italian locks their eyes and can truly see the sincerity of that compliment pouring out of his deep gaze.

In that moment he doesn't think there is anything in this world that could overcome his need to pull Marc closer. It escalates up his body all the way towards his limbs, like warm waves of want that ignite his whole being, like a machine being turned on.

"You would have done the same" he manages to whisper, feeling Marc's incredibly soft hand burning his skin anywhere his touch reaches "Maybe I've learned a few things from you"

The Spaniard's head jerks up and Vale wants to convey how much he means that. He really does. Very few things he found in the world more admirable than the overwhelming amount of courage that kid has. For him, that had always been one of the most irritatingly attractive things about Marc.

Very different from the previous one, a comfortable silence hangs in the air, where Valentino simply focus on enjoying that little moment with the other rider. God, it had been too long since they have talked like this for the last time. Like really talk, not only those crossed short greetings they exchanged to accompany the occasional handshakes. That had never felt the same, that had never been enough.

"Well, you could take it as payback, for all the things I have learned from you" Marc looks up at him once again through those eyelashes, and Vale can't help thinking he looks even younger under the dim light of the night. Somehow, it feels as if he was seated in front of the Marc Marquez from four years ago all over again, that rookie that helplessly got his attention since the beginning.

And although the man he has in front seems stronger, his gorgeous features sharper and his demeanor more mature, the gleam in those eyes is still the same. And of course, it can still make Vale's skin get completely covered with goosebumps. Because no matter how many people he sees with his t-shirts and caps, no matter how full the circuits are of his fans, no matter how many compliments and love declarations he hears from the crowd...there is simply no other thing in the world that makes him feel as important and admired as Marc's fond gaze of utter praise and respect.

And that scares him.

It terrifies him, how much power the boy still has over him. And he hates it, after how hard he had tried to push him away, to forget him, Vale hates how fucking much he still likes him.

Gathering as much willpower as he can, he clutches the silver-like railing of the staircase to pull himself up, trying not to give away how much he regrets retrieving his hand from Marc's warm grasp, making the hard surface of the motorhome feel even colder under his palm once he leans against it.

"I...I should really go to bed and have proper rest for tomorrow because, you know" he curses under his breath at how coward, weak and affected that sounded.

He just swears against everyone and anything, because really, life would be much easier if they simply had never known each other in the first place. But the truth is that he isn't sure at all that's what he wants.

His mixed feelings are so fucking confusing and suffocating he almost wants to scream at the top of his lungs right then and there. But instead, he simply stands on the highest step, following with his gaze every move the young Spaniard makes as he stands on his feet as well, nervously shaking the dirt off those damned jeans that fit him that insanely well.

The italian swallows uneasily one last time before deciding is enough punishment for today. Not that it will be over that instantly.

He _wIshed._

Now he'll probably fall on his bed and torment himself untill sunrise, consumed by the guilty nature of his deepest feelings and desires. Yeah, already resigned he accepts that sleep time he has used as an excuse seems now like an unreachable goal.

"Good night" the dark sky and slightly colder breeze makes him mutter it almost out of reflex. He doesn't expect anything more.

He hopes, _begs_ for nothing more.

His fingertips are already around the doorknob when Marc lets out a quick, painful "Wait, let me help"

Before he has time to react, the Spanish rider is already by his side, opening the door himself. But at the moment, Vale hardly pays attention to anything of what's going on, cause Marc is too close now and smells too, way too good.

Helplessly, their gazes lock again and this time he can't help a quick, up-close glance at those lips and seriously, when had their bodies gotten that close?

He feels his limbs as if made of heavy iron, unconnected to the orders desperately coming from his brain.

"Good night, Vale" and then, there it is, empowering and killing him simultaneously. Because the craved kiss is pressed against his cheek, those warm lips so close yet so far where he wants them the most, making his heartbeat race and his breath catch. And doesn't even dare to move for those too short seconds. He wants the moment to last forever as much as he wants it to end as soon as possible. He could brake his leg a thousand times and he's more than sure that it would never be as painful as the way his heart divides inside chest every single time they are close to one another.

The warmth disappears as fast as it has come and there is nothing he wants more in that very moment than putting Marc impossibly close and never let go. Nothing more than claim that mouth, that neck, that body and that voice.

But he can't.

That's what's driving him crazy. They can't.

"Good luck for tomorrow" Marc whispers, delightfully, agonizingly softly on his ear, the warm breath grazing the shell of it and making the italian feel he will melt on the spot, at least before disappearing, leaving a void behind Vale doubts nothing else will ever fulfill.

"Yeah, you too" the younger is no longer there to hear the words, but for the first time in months he's sure about one thing, though. He really meant that.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading if you have! You mean a lot to me ;)  
> And don't hesitate to leave your thoughts down below if you feel like it. 
> 
> ❤Thank you.


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